


The Lost Years

by Natterina



Series: The Lost Chronicles [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Assassination, Established Relationship, F/M, Hades follows with snark, Kassandra dips in and out of historical events, Minor Alexandros III of Macedon | Alexander the Great/Hephaistion of Macedon, Murder of kings, Romance, ancient babylon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:14:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27407914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Natterina/pseuds/Natterina
Summary: Their story starts when they leave Atlantis, and ends only when Kassandra relinquishes command of the staff to the Heir of Memories. For two-thousand years she walks the earth, watching from the shadows and trying to keep herself safe in a world that is ever changing.Sometimes, history needs a nudge. Other times, Kassandra takes it into her own hands. Occasionally, she wonders if bringing a snarky Isu man with her was really her smartest idea.
Relationships: Hades/Kassandra (Assassin's Creed)
Series: The Lost Chronicles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002333
Comments: 1
Kudos: 20





	The Lost Years

**Author's Note:**

> To any new Hades/Kassandra shippers who have not read the earlier work Illusory, you may want to give that a quick read before this as it may not fully make sense otherwise, but it's not needed and should be easy to follow without it!
> 
> These are mostly going to be little ficlets that are not in chronological order: they'll hop back and forth through history so there's no overarching story to this, I just thought some moments throughout time would be fun to write after the DLC!

Hades has to admit, as primitive as these humans are, they have a knack for architecture.

The lions are, perhaps, a bit of an overkill, but the deep blue of the walls and the eighth gate into the city of Babylon are pleasing enough to look at, and he supposes it _does_ get the point across to those who are dragged down in chains, if they ever are.

It does not take him long to cross through the gates and head in the general direction of the market, but in the evening light it is almost impossible to tell Kassandra from any other human woman milling along the stalls, be they Persian, Hellenic or Macedonian.

But spots her he does, sitting on a sandstone wall facing the lowering sun, her pale peplos almost orange in the light. The Staff of Hermes Trismegistus glitters on her right shoulder, shrunken down into a fibula and holding her peplos in place. She looks uncomfortable, furiously fanning herself with a hand fan and narrowing dark eyes at any vendors who come too close.

Hades knows the moment she senses his presence, the whole line of her body tensing, and as he lowers himself down next to her he tuts.

“Did I not see you in Ecbatana? It was an _exciting_ time, I heard a woman killed the _basileus’_ lover. You almost look very much like her.” He is teasing, trying to calm the tenseness in her body, strung as tight as a lyre string. Ecbatana had been the first time she had been forced to act on Pythagoras’ words, and her duty is not yet over.

She swats him with the fan, shushing him with a sharp hiss.

“Did you bring it?”

He hands her a stoppered vial without saying a word, full with _just_ the right dose of white hellebore. There had initially been two vials for two doses: the first had found its way slipped into a chalice of boiled wine more than half a year ago, and Hephaestion had been the first to go.

Kassandra takes it and quickly places it into a hidden pocket beneath her peplos, where he’s certain she also has several daggers. Her axe is still on the Adrestia, but that is docked weeks away at one of the Tyrian ports, and she cannot get in and out of the palace with it.

“You know, you _could_ just sit back and see how it all turns out.”

Kassandra huffs out a breath at his words, shaking her head quickly.

“No, I could not. Too much order leads to a lack of progression and freedom, he said. I’ve already let it go too far.”

She stands up, readies to go, but she pauses when she looks at him properly and cocks her head to the side. Her hand reaches out, fingers curling in the hair at the back of his neck. It is a moment they have caught themselves in before, the feeling of teetering on the edge of a cliff but not quite ready to jump. She is no longer free with her rare affections, has not been since they parted ways in Carthage so long ago. He is about to break it with a smirk, before she beats him to it.

“You trimmed your hair.”

The scowl is immediate, her words a reminder of the oppressive heat of this ridiculous city, so far removed from the ocean and the sea breeze. Kassandra has struggled more than he, having spent more than a hundred years never far from the ocean, and most of that has been spent on the open sea. At least he can cut his shorter - it is not socially acceptable for Kassandra to begin chopping off her own, and standing out is never an option for either of them.

“It’s the fucking heat.”

Kassandra throws back her head and laughs at that. Hades only watches her, every muscle and limb silhouetted by the light of the sun, her hair shining copper in places. They had parted nearly eighty years ago and only came across one another by chance in Ecbatana, but he has almost _enjoyed_ the last nine months of her company.

She hands him her fan; for once the smirk graces her lips, not his, and her fingers trail along his jaw before she is off, blending into the crowds of the market.

* * *

Kassandra meets him again by the bridge just outside the city, her cheeks flushed and her breath coming short, many hours after the sun has set. The city is at its quietest, with only a few humans milling about. His solitude has only been broken by the occasional soldier, and one or two merchants heading into the city with their wagons.

Hades can tell by the dust on her peplos that her escape has been made over the sandstone rooftops of the city, though no commotion has yet been made. There likely won’t be for another week, long enough for the poison to take hold. But it _will_ come, and the damage it will do to the Macedonian empire is beyond what any of these humans can imagine.

Alexander, the great young king, _will_ breathe his last.

His killer comes to a stop next to him, a grimace twisting her lips, and she removes the vial from her pocket and throws it as hard as she can. It travels a fair distance before it disappears into the water with a satisfying splash.

“Are the horses ready?”

Hades nods. “Fed and watered and ready to go. You’ll be on the Adrestia by the month’s end.”

Though frankly, it probably shouldn’t be called the Adrestia anymore. Every beloved plank laid down by Barnabas had eventually been replaced over the years, leaving the same ship, but not _quite_ the same. Personally, Hades thinks she needs to be rid of the thing, but it is the last tangible reminder of her youth that she owns, apart from the staff and a few pieces of jewellery and other such trinkets.

“You look troubled.”

Kassandra snorts.

“I just poisoned a king. He will take days to die, but already his generals are dividing up his empire.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, rubbing at her eyes with her thumb and forefinger.

Hades merely looks out at the river for a moment, lit orange by the lamps along the battlements.

“My bet is on Ptolemaios. He’ll have the longest dynasty.”

“Hm.” Kassandra eyes him suspiciously. “I’ll take Antipatros.”

They stand in silence for a beat, before Hades’ lips curl into a smirk.

“I may have had an interesting conversation about the merits of Egypt with Ptolemaios in the market a few days ago.”

“Oh _fuck you_.” She runs her hand over her face. “That’s cheating.”

“Hardly. I expected you to take a chance on Seleukos. He has as close a chance to succeed.”

He feels rather than sees her shake her head, as she begins to give in to her tiredness and leans more heavily against his arm. Hades trails his fingers lightly down her spine, a whisper of a touch through her peplos, but she relaxes further into him nonetheless.

“Maybe he’ll surprise us all.” She rubs at her eyes, fighting off the weariness from days already spent on the road, with many more ahead.

After another moment of unacknowledged intimacy, a moment of silence between them with the both of them enjoying the closeness of another person, the warmth of a body pressed against their own, Kassandra straightens and rolls her shoulders.

“We should leave. No one suspects anything yet, but by morning…” She trails off, and Hades doesn’t need her to continue speaking to know what she is thinking. By morning, when Alexander’s strange turn becomes an obvious poisoning, his generals will search for anyone suspicious, and his height alone makes it hard not to stand out. His helmet is capable of making the human’s see him as shorter than he is, but he is adamant that he still stand at least a foot taller than the rest of them. If one of them should get a chance to see him without his armour, or witness even the careless removal of a glove, then they’re in a world of trouble.

Hades says nothing, merely nods his head once in agreement and waits for her to lead the way towards the stables. Kassandra doesn’t move for a moment, her lips pursed in thought, and it takes a moment for him to realise her gaze is fixed on _him_. He cocks his head to the side, questioning.

“That’s it? No sarcastic remarks, no quips about the primitive way we’re travelling?” She unfolds her arms, and begins to turn to look up at him. “We might actually survive the next twenty days without killing each other.”

A tall order, only nine months after the end of an eighty year separation. His responding smirk is wry, as Kassandra stands closer to him than she has in years. It is an easy thing to lean closer, watch her eyelids flutter half-closed (never fully, he has not earned back that simple trust yet), his lips ghosting against her own as she automatically tilts her head up.

“Now that, I would not bet on. The road is very long, with only you for company.” He pulls back as she leans in, his smirk returning to a smug curl of his lips, but there is no annoyance in Kassandra’s eyes. Instead, she only rolls her eyes, one hand curling into a fist on the metal of his breastplate.

“Oh, I would never kill you on the road. I’d just throw you off the side of my ship.” She pats the metal in mock affection, before she withdraws from him completely and begins to lead the way to the horses.

Hades pauses a moment before he follows, watching her with something that almost feels like admiration. Ninety years earlier he had very nearly refused to go with her, when she had offered him the freedom to walk a world that was not and never would be _his_ world. But he had not hesitated, had followed this irritating human that he had already taken to his bed, up and out of the Gateway to Atlantis with barely a look behind him. Meeting her in Ecbatana had been pure chance, but the decision to follow her again had been a difficult one to make, and they are yet to adjust fully to the presence of the other.

But for now he follows, and he has little regret.


End file.
